Star Trek :: Death Star Mine
by MekQuarrie
Summary: A new threat to the Federation requires a surprising ally. :: Just a couple of chapters for a bit of fun. :: 'Death Star Free' image reworked from Wikimedia Commons.
1. Chapter 1

Picard took a deep breath and entered Worf's quarters. He hated to see any of his crew upset, but his Tactical Officer was also a Klingon and his honor had been challenged. This required a special kind of understanding.

Worf was already changing into his lightweight gym gear and lacing the flat sport shoes. A pair of martial arts gloves indicated that a holographic adversary was about to receive a virtual beating.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Picard said as Worf made to stand. "This is not an official visit."

Worf exhaled and inhaled carefully, clearly tense.

"I do not like to talk about my feelings, Captain. You have issued your orders. We must follow them."

Picard sighed and walked to the small viewing slit in the upper portion of the wall. The glow of warp five star trails sizzled past.

"Starfleet needs our help, Lieutenant. We answer the call. A new threat has arisen from the Borg, strange even by the standards of the Borg. Our new Tactical Officer may have special knowledge. We should at least hear him out."

Worf picked up the gloves and worked the first one onto his left hand. "He appears to be very like an Earth rabbit from a magician's hat, Captain," he grumbled.

"That might be truer than you think, Worf. He was found by explorers frozen in a carbon-like substance, completely alive, but dormant. He may have been there for years. But our empaths noticed similarities in the brain waves between him and the occupants of a newly identified Borg construction. They come from the same era, possibly even the same far away galaxy."

Worf pulled on the second glove and punched both fists together. His nostrils flared. "Your orders are sufficient Captain. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a new Eugenic Wars program that I wish to test to the full."

**:::**

Riker looked past their new tactical officer with amusement. Troi was still unhappy that she had been unable to read the mind of the giant shaggy figure who stood at Worf's position on the Bridge. It was Data who had stepped in to interpret the general disposition of their new colleague.

"Wave your hand over the surface and point at any detail that you want to magnify," he said with a fixed grin. "The heuristics should anticipate any of the questions you might ask."

Chewbacca sniffed the flat surface of the control panel then passed his paw-like hand carefully over the symbols and light patterns. He was satisfied by the information it provided.

"Chewbacca approves of our sensors," said Data helpfully to Riker. The screen flickered and froze briefly then the information scrolled before freezing again.

"Don't worry, Chewie. We know about the problems with the software. The Remmler Array will smooth all that out when we finally get there. I find a small thump with the fist provides an excellent placebo effect in humanoids." He motioned artistically.

Chewie scowled then punched his fist into the face of the sensor panel. Data sighed as a small crack appeared in the covering film. Before the film could self-seal, Chewie growled and punched the crack again letting his fist plunge into the microcircuitry. His growl of anger turned into a friendly purr of satisfaction. He might even have been laughing. Data looked on in surprise.

Riker raised his eyebrows and spoke up. "Now children. We won't let you play if you break your toys. Perhaps it's time for a tactical break?" His frown flowed smoothly into a winning smile. "Data, why don't you show the Tactical Officer to the bar or get him something to eat?"

Data blinked then nodded. "Let's eat, Chewie," he tried to say in as friendly a way as possible.

Chewie growled sharply gripping Data's bioplastic throat and lifting him easily from the floor.

Riker rose to his feet and raised a calming hand. "Wait a minute there, big fella. We're all friends here."

"I am still fully functional, Commander," said Data thru clenched teeth. "Perhaps we should just call him Chewbacca for now."

**:::**

"Starfleet did not advise us of any dietary information, Chewbacca," said Data indicating the servery. "But we cater to most humanoid tastes." Off duty crew members waited patiently in line behind them, admiring the height and stature of their new officer. The word 'Wookie' rolled eagerly around their chatter.

Keller, the shift cook smiled and offered up a wide plate of roasted meats to the android and his guest. "How's that my friends?" he said with a flabby smile.

Chewie sniffed the plate then growled at the cook. Keller leaned back indifferently and put aside the meat. "No?" he said. "What about some roots? We've got vegetables from four quadrants."

Chewie looked at the colored lumps of red, green and yellow steaming in wet trays. With a bark he thumped his fist into the boiled masses, clattering the trays against each other in the frame.

A small Andorian woman by his elbow tried to redirect his attention. "Why not move straight to dessert?" she suggested. She pointed a slender blue finger to a shelf of shortbread biscuits and sugar pastries. Chewie focussed on the small sugar crystals and seemed almost instantly at ease. He hummed pleasantly.

Data helped him place as many of the sweet treats as he could in a small box. But before they could move to a side table, Geordie La Forge pushed his way thru and placed his hand on Data's shoulder.

"It's here," he said.

**:::**

It was the size of a small moon, spherical, with a giant circular depression between its equator and the pole. But the previously off-white surface was blemished and pockmarked with regular holes Pipes and lines ran across the surface in regular and irregular patterns. Something was taking over the appearance of the enormous space station.

Picard had called all the officers to the '_Enterprise_' Bridge to see it. Everyone stood in silence.

"Do you recognize it, Chewbacca?" asked Picard. "We call it the Dead Star."


	2. Chapter 2

The Dead Star shimmered black and silver on the screen in front of them. Its incredible stillness was enough to create fear in the assembled crew members.

Chewie growled and looked with concern at the tactical diagrams on the range of displays around the command deck. "I'm managing to get more of Chewbacca's emotions now, Captain. He recognizes the construction," said Troi. "It's a battle station. Star of Death? Death Star? Something very similar to our tactical name."

"Good work, Counselor," said Picard sitting back in his chair. "Whatever it was called, whatever we choose to call it now, the Borg have made it their own. We must take extra precautions."

"How close should we go, Captain?" said La Forge. "There are no obvious weapon signatures, but there is a lot of energy spread around the whole station. Who knows when one of them might turn into a weapon?"

"Where did the _USS Chang_ go?" Picard mused. "They were supposed to stand off five hundred thousand kilometres, making observations. We are supposed to rendezvous with them before anyone approaches the station."

"I may have a trace, Captain," said La Forge. "I'll switch the view screen to tactical and overlay technology signatures. There. You can just see the saucer of the _Chang _occluded by the Dead Star. It looks like they're caught in some kind of tractor beam."

"Can you contact the _Chang_?" Picard asked Data. "Find out what's going on."

Chewie growled and pointed a long finger at the schematic. Troi nodded. "Chewbacca says that he knows where the tractor beam is controlled from inside the station," she said. "There's a power core deep inside. We could reach it almost undetected if someone went in with a shuttle craft."

Picard thought quickly, glancing briefly at Riker's expression. His friend's raised eyebrows confirmed that he agreed with the course of action. "Agreed," said Picard. "Two personnel. No more."

Picard turned to go to his ready-room. "Take over, Will. I must inform Starfleet of developments." Riker moved into the command chair, but before Picard could leave the bridge, Worf approached him.

"I should be the second member of the away-team, Captain," he said. "This creature is not even an officer. We don't know what he will do aboard a Borg vessel, even if he does claim to recognize it."

"Chewbacca has been assigned the guest rank of 'Agent to the Federation'. He has no inherent authority, and he is only obligated to follow my orders."

"There is no question who should accompany Chewbacca on this mission Captain," said Worf. "I will change into an away uniform straight away." He began to strip the shreds of the fighting gloves from his powerful wrists.

Picard shook his head curtly. "I would prefer Counselor Troi to act as the go-between. She has tuned in to at least some of his mannerisms."

"Do not worry, Captain. I know exactly what our Agent is thinking, perhaps even before he does." There was a slight curl to the edge of his top lip.

Picard could think of many reasons not to put a Klingon and a Wookiee in a small craft together, but then he saw it completely differently. The two of them would be perfect together in a near-battle situation. He pressed his lips together firmly and nodded. "Make it so."

**:::**

Chewie stood with his hands on his hips and viewed the row of Enterprise shuttlecraft with disdain. The smooth surfaces and boxy lines had no character, and he guessed there would be little storage capacity. He turned with scorn to Troi and snorted a little purr of disgust.

Troi sighed at his rudeness. "These are highly efficient transit vehicles, Chewbacca. 'Garbage' is not the correct word."

Chewie snorted then inspected the entrance hatch. It was barely adequate for a being of his stature. He pointed to the selection of armaments on the palette beside them, most of which exceeded the capability of a human to carry. He growled again.

"I'm sorry," said Troi. "These kind of weapons would normally be loaded on the outside of vehicles. Can't you take something more flexible? Will, Commander Riker, advises that a non-confrontational approach works best with the Borg. They will ignore one small vessel and two intruders. As long as there is no firing."

Chewbacca sorted thru the stack of weaponry, throwing the grenades, charges, and miniature sensors into the shuttle. He found a small Cardassian club-rifle, measured it against his forearm and threw that into the doorway too.

"Please be careful," Troi warned, flinching with concern as each item impacted against the floor of the shuttle. "The safety features on non-Starfleet items are not reliable."

Chewie pulled at the remaining pile and let the ordnance crash to the deck of the _Enterprise _shuttlebay. Troi knew he was creating a disturbance to make a point. She understood his frustration. He stood up contentedly with a Starfleet issue confined-space assault rifle in each hand. The carry straps hung down in a casual but dashing manner. There was something impressive about him despite his wild appearance.

"An excellent choice," bellowed a voice from behind her. She knew straight away that it was Worf, but she did not want to turn around too soon, to show him that she wanted to see him. As Chewbacca lifted his head and flared his nostrils with a little growl, she allowed herself to turn casually. Worf stood in his tight -fighting away uniform, the baldric chain-sash crossed again by an irregular bandolier stuffed with ammunition, and in each of his hands, he carried the same assault rifles.

Troi sighed aloud. "Will recommended that we act in a stealthy manner. Release the _Chang_ and retreat to the _Enterprise_. We'll take it from there."

Worf nodded thoughtfully. He could see the Wookiee boarding the shuttlecraft and Worf half-suspected that he would leave without further ceremony. "Commander Riker is good at recommendations, Deanna. I like this recommendation. But if the Borg turn on the _Enterprise_ we may have to cause considerable disruption to distract their collective minds."

He nodded respectfully at Troi as he put his foot on the step of the shuttle and hauled himself inside. "Let's fly," he growled to Chewbacca.


	3. Chapter 3

"We may regret this decision, Captain," said Riker as Picard returned to the bridge. He stood up slowly to vacate the command chair.

Picard looked him sternly in the eye. "We might, Will. But it was entirely my decision. Starfleet wants minimal engagement with this manifestation of the Borg. We need a firm, tough team on board."

Riker stepped forward to view the tactical readouts on La Forge's control panel. "I take it Starfleet also wants us to rescue the _USS Chang_? Any other miracles on their shopping list?"

Picard sat awkwardly in his chair, looking at the unblemished floor covering. "We follow orders, Commander. That includes you. Track the shuttlecraft and be ready to react."

Riker could see that his friend was worried. "Aye, Captain." He nodded and turned back to La Forge. "Why don't we look at some contingencies, Geordi? What's the situation with the _Chang_? Could we get a message thru?"

La Forge tapped the image of the other Galaxy class starship and enlarged the interior. "No significant adaptation by the Borg. It looks like they're on hold for now."

Riker rubbed his chin. "That's unusual. A ship that size would be a significant threat to any Borg vessel. What life signs are visible?"

La Forge was a little apprehensive, but he selected the biometrics overlay and let the image revize itself. "All good. Full Starfleet crew. A dozen Arkarian passengers. A companion dog. One body in the morgue. One patient in sickbay." He looked up. "Indigestion."

Riker was surprised by the relative health of the crew. "What are these little symbols?" He pointed at small red triangles scattered evenly about the ship and its decks.

La Forge enlarged one of the symbols although he knew straight away what it meant. The red triangle contained three interlocking black circles. "A biohazard Commander. Every compartment of the ship is locked-down in quarantine."

La Forge and Riker looked at each other then turned back to the Captain. "Genius," said Picard. "Let Worf know."

**:::**

Worf was not impressed by Chewbacca's manners. A competitive Klingon would have punched his face with a shout before wrestling the controls from him mid-flight. But the Wookiee had waited until the incoming message from the _Enterprise_ had distracted him before silently switching the control panel into 'dual' mode, then locking out his own half of the panel. It was not an honorable way to behave.

"I can give you full in-flight training if you wish to fly this craft, Chewbacca," said Worf. "Random adjustments are not recommended." Although he could see the flight computer was largely smoothing out the Wookiee's clumsy thumping of the controls, Worf was worried that their erratic course changes would attract the collective attention of the Borg on the Dead Star. They still had thirty minutes left to negotiate the space between the _Enterprise _and the space station. One second in the glare of the Borg could prove fatal.

"It seems the _Chang _may have deceived the Borg by faking a medical emergency. Captain Hogg is an Andorian. They are known for their cunning. The Borg appear indifferent to their ship for now. But as soon as a cure presents itself or the Borg wish to destroy the _Chang_, their deception will be worthless."

Chewie howled a small howl of satisfaction as they finally leveled out and approached the equator of the sphere. The ensnared starship was now hidden from sight, but they could see that the Borg modifications were strongest in the top half of the station, mainly around the dank eye of what appeared to be a massive energy weapon. Tubes and piping branched outward like stylized black veins. Sparks of lightning and bursts of neon erupted at random locations. The modification spread out slowly but without interruption. Despite its size, the whole station might be consumed in hours rather than days.

Worf's nostrils flared. His ancient instincts made him wary of dead flesh that he himself had not killed. The prospect of entering a large rotting skull set his heart beating stiffly.

"There," he said quietly, pointing at the belt of large slots that defined the equator. "Docking bays?" Chewie snorted a gruff confirmation. "Orbit the station once and try to enter at the point furthest from the assimilation. It will buy us more time." Chewie snapped the first and third fingers of his furry left paw. The shuttle banked smoothly and began to slingshot around the station.

Worf resisted the urge to acknowledge how impressed he was at the Wookiee's flying skills, how quickly he had modified his own movements to match the controls. But the easy ride of the craft was forming a thought in his mind.

"What is the relative mass of the Dead Star?" he asked. Chewie pointed to the information panel above Worf's head. It showed the outline of the station and a projected orbit of the shuttlecraft overlaid with the actual trajectory. A small table of data enlarged to reveal the tilt, relative velocity, yaw, roll, and mass of the two moving objects.

The station's mass was several million megatons which made it only a fraction of the weight of a satellite like the Terran Moon. But Worf had expected a more significant gravitational pull. "There appears to be no artificial gravity within the station." He checked another analytical table. "And no atmosphere."

Chewie swiped the information tables across to his own displays and pored heavily over the figures for several seconds. He gave a little sigh.

**:::**

The _Enterprise _shuttlecraft drifted imperceptibly into the large rectangular opening of the darkened docking bay. Worf estimated that a Klingon Bird-of-Prey could have squeezed in there with them too. And there were dozens of such bays located around the station.

"Try to put us down on a flat surface, Chewbacca," said Worf as he opened the storage locker nearest the airlock. "Keep the searchlight off. And try to use only passive sensors." The orange EVA suit inside was large, but it was obvious who was going to have to wear it.


	4. Chapter 4

Worf hated the heavy gravity boots of the EVA suit. Each step in the vacuum of the docking bay was interrupted by the fractional sticky second as a combination of induced gravity and micro-suckers activating held his foot momentarily to the unknown material of the deck surface, then released it. The artificial intelligence in the boots that matched his modeled gait to his average pace usually took a minute or two to kick in and allow smooth movement. In the dark, the seconds seemed like hours.

But Worf particularly liked the lowlight vizor that expanded the few photons of light into great bursts of illumination sharpening the edge of each potential obstacle and allowing him to make better progress. It appealed to his hunter's instinct; to be unseen, and yet to see everything.

A long low growl in his earpiece interrupted his exploration of the shapes around him.

"I do not understand your language, Starfleet Agent," he said with irritation.

The growl was replaced by another yelp and two short barks.

"If you are insulting me, I am unaffected by your words," said Worf, standing still. "Can you operate the message burst system?" He turned clumsily in the suit to face the distant shuttle. "We have very little time to find the tractor beam generator."

A long low growl in his ear was accompanied by the flash of a virtual message in the top corner of his perception: _go ahead_.

Worf shrugged and picked out the cabin window of the craft. "I am going ahead. That was the plan when I left the shuttle." He could see the shaggy head of the Wookiee and the dark circles of the eyes. But then he could see the head, the window and shuttle rising together in the pitch black.

A strange whistling growl from Chewbacca was accompanied by the flash of the message: _later_.

"You cowardly dog!" Worf shouted as the shuttle lifted a metre from the docking bay deck in near-silent stealth mode and vanished backwards out of the bay. "If you leave me here, I will find you!" he bellowed as the boots locked solid on the floor, the A.I. confused by his agitated movement. "And your descendants!" he added with a heavy wave of his fist.

**:::**

"The _Chang _is coming back round into communications range, Captain," said La Forge. He laid the fluorescent green trajectory over the giant viewscreen image. Picard had also asked for near-infrared wavelengths to be added to the two-thirds view of the dying station. Soft blushes of red showed where small amounts of heat were still venting from the various exhaust ports and energy ducts. La Forge was recording the session to review later. The spectral shifts fascinated him.

"Hail the _Chang_," said Picard, bracing both hands on the arms of his chair. "Short waves, short bursts. Try to match background radiation as much as possible." The disc of the saucer section was edging out of the shadow of the Dead Star.

"Aye, Captain," said La Forge. He selected the comms tableau and opened a micro-channel.

Riker stepped forward to follow the exchange on the control panel. "The Captain's name is Hogg. Use his personal lexicon to keep the messages private."

"Way ahead of you, Commander," La Forge replied. A short head tilt mimicked a wink.

Riker smiled. "Just get it done." He noted that the channel was staying closed. He looked back to Picard and raised his eyebrows. "This might take a few minutes, Captain."

"A few will do," said Picard. "Are we agreed on our strategy? The saucer."

Riker nodded. "Yes. The saucer. As we discussed." he turned back to La Forge. "Make sure they all get into the saucer."

La Forge had enjoyed the brief tactical meeting at Worf's security desk. He could not remember for sure who had suggested that the crew of the Chang evacuate into the saucer section, but it had been an obvious solution given the assimilation of the rest of the ship. He thought it was probably his idea. And he had probably suggested it first. But it had been obvious to everyone.

"Ah. A message from Hogg." The Andorian lexicon was difficult like Terran hieroglyphs, but La Forge was comfortable with a wide range of languages. "The opening terms are difficult. Something to do with 'exploitation' and 'cloud accumulation'."

There was a melodramatic clearing of a melodramatic throat behind them. Data stood in the doorway of the turbolift. "Ahem. I think you will find he is hailing the 'enterprising masses', Geordi. By which he probably means us."

La Forge turned slightly then turned back to the message stream. "Good call, Data. How about the rest of the message? A 'hexagon bounce'?"

Data stepped forward only enough to allow the turbolift door to close. "He tells us that he is going to separate the saucer section when the tractor beam is released. An excellent idea too, if I might say so myself."

Picard laughed curtly. "Yes. It seems we all had the same idea at the same time."

"It is mentioned in Starfleet protocols," said Data. "But as we know, it is no longer a recommended procedure, and is not technically possible on the Sovereign class."

Picard met Riker's amused gaze. "Extraordinary times, Mr. Data. Now, Geordi. Let the _Chang _know that we acknowledge their plan. Let them know we have an away team working on the tractor beam right now."

**:::**

Chewbacca liked the handling of the shuttlecraft as it skimmed the surface of the space station to within a millimetre, but it reminded him too much of the slight lines of certain Imperial vessels. He would gladly crash it into the heart of the decaying Death Star when the time came. But for now, he had to find a way into that reactor core. Chewie knew that the wild creature known as The Worf was loyal to the other soldiers in his fleet and would be able to destroy the tractor beam connections on his own without much difficulty. And probably escape. But Chewbacca the Wookiee had no intention of escaping.


	5. Chapter 5

Worf plodded on further in the light-starved darkness, passing rows and rows of small ships, some rows lined up evenly, others positioned at random angles. Mostly, they looked like fighter craft, all hanging from launch cranes with stretched access ladders. Small one-man pods were perched solidly between giant hexagonal panes. The materials looked old and corroded, like metal and glass. There was no sign of even the most basic composites on any of the surfaces. Worf continued to regulate his breathing within the EVA suit and eventually stopped after fifty or sixty fighters. He peered into the cockpit of the next craft. He imagined that the pilot, if positioned correctly, would almost be facing out into space, vulnerable but exhilarated. An honorable position to fight from.

After fifteen more minutes he reached what must have been the back of the docking bay. He had estimated that there were hundreds of craft, but he had seen no personnel. The lack of air and light would explain that absence for most known spaceborne species.

A barely discernible row of access doors was interrupted at intervals by dull panels of antiquated bulbs and keyboard panels. He picked the most likely access point and wrestled a thin connector pin from the wrist of his left glove. He punched it generally into the most likely circular slot and let the active materials write themselves into the circuitry.

"Connect, you moribund targ," he muttered. An electrical squeal assailed his ears and a heavy, badly scaled schematic crackled across the display inside the helmet glass. The space station had a massive bright center, illustrated in an antique etched style with a stern sun-like face. Tentacles like the serpent arms of the qagh curled out to the edges of the sphere. Two or three extended out into the space beyond the station and one plucked hungrily at the mast of a primitive raft.

"Quaint. Stupid. But helpful," said Worf. As they had guessed, the reactor controlled a web of tractor beams.

A message burst flickered in the top corner of his vision: _one cut cuts all_.

**:::**

"And now mutiny." Hogg sat in his ready room and stared at his glowing blue features in a small handheld mirror. It was getting to be a bad day.

"It's just some of the crew," said Angelis. "They felt that the saucer plan was beyond normal regulation practice. I do agree about the regulation concerns. But I think the saucer plan is the only option we have." He adjusted the darkened spectacles that he insisted he needed to wear on the ship for medical reasons.

Hogg tossed the mirror onto the small conference table. He had managed to squeeze most of the bridge crew around it to allow more room in the saucer section. They were a dozen in number and all very stressed.

"Everybody shut up," he said, his tiny antenna pointing sharply backward. "You, Angelis. Point at the pictures and show me where _Enterprise _is."

Angelis swiped the back of his palm over the display skin and highlighted the second Galaxy class ship and its proximity to the space station. "There. Picard in command. Riker on board too. Both good men."

Hogg whispered. "I said 'point'. Now point at the away team. Without words."

Angelis sighed, glanced knowingly to their counselor, and tapped on the two green dots in the Dead Star, one near the equator in the docking bays, the other darting up to one of the poles.

"Neither of them looks very close to the central reactor." He stared intently at the telemetry. The gravity field around the _Chang_ was rock solid. He looked up and glared around at the tired, mainly human, eyes. "We could be waiting for an hour to two. If it's much longer, the Borg assimilation will have jumped to the saucer anyway." He glared at Angelis and his shaded eyes. "We will separate the saucer while the tractor beam still has us in its grip. Our chance of escape is better then. You may talk now."

Angelis was shaking his head. "No."

"Good," Hogg interrupted. "Just do it."

**:::**

Chewbacca stabilized the shuttlecraft above the pole of the station. He had made a mistake. He had two ends of the station axis to choose from and he had chosen the one that had most been assimilated by the cybernetic intruders. The exhaust port which he had expected to give him direct axis to the reactor shaft was not there. A mesh of dark piping and crackling conduits extended across the whole surface. He reviewed the schematic and decided that a simple collision would be the only solution.

"_Lieutenant Worf?"_ The comms panel crackled.

Chewie looked at the projected damage to the exhaust port and the theoretical explosion he would have to induce to destroy the whole reactor and the whole station. He thought briefly, then let his shoulders slump. His clawed fingers reached to the 'Active' symbol on the panel.

He growled into the perception microphone.

"_Is that Chewbacca?"_ said the fluctuating voice. _"This is Will Riker. Where's Lieutenant Worf? We have more information from the Chang."_

Chewie drummed his fingers on the panel surface. He dragged the floating messenger box over in front of him. He growled into the mic and sent a burst: _worf in station_.

Before Riker could reply, he sent a second message: _targets assigned_.

"_Did you leave Worf?"_ said Riker's voice. _"How many targets does he need to hit?"_

Chewie huffed and puffed. He was going to send one last message then disconnect: _one cut cuts all_.

"_What are you planning to do, Chewbacca? If you try to draw fire, everything will start to get messy. What cut?"_

Chewie thought carefully then added a last burst: _big bang coming = flee_.

He disconnected the comms channel and highlighted the tiny dot that illustrated the Klingon's plodding progress. He could see that The Worf was only a few hundred metres from the connector hub that would interrupt the tractor beam and release the Starfleet ship instantly. Both crews would be surprised. He hoped they would react quickly, because he planned to destroy the Dead Star minutes after.


	6. Chapter 6

Worf let the automated bulkhead slide open. At last he was near the outer core.

After attempting to find stairwells and accessways, he had conceded that the battle station was too big to simply walk and crawl from one side to another. It might have taken him days. He had balanced the use of the side-to-side transit pods and express elevators with the possibility of discovery and conceded that speed was more necessary. The transit circuits were also childishly simple to decrypt and he had found a schematic that pointed him directly to one of the reactors that would break the tractor beam when it was deactivated.

This area was different. The long tall corridors were replaced by a spherical hollow with access paths held tight to the sides. Two narrow walkways approached the reactor at the epicenter of the space. The lighting levels were as low as the outer sectors, but there were more of the Borg here. They had chosen to set-up as many alcoves as they could around the circumference of the chamber. He could probably breath the thin envelope of gases around him, but the spacesuit and its helmet were the best protection he had at that second.

Most of the figures were inert and rigid in their flickering surroundings. Some of the assimilated troopers were randomly augmented with pieces of their own space station. Others who had been damaged by attack from their own former colleagues were hanging in the alcoves awaiting some unseen decision to revive or discard them. Despite the obvious signs of damage and conflict there was very little in the way of blood and gore on the floors or walls. It was not necessary to think of where the bodies and bits of bodies had gone to, but as a Klingon Worf worried about what happened after death as much as what happened before it.

He looked ahead and stepped slowly onto the nearest walkway. A slight creaking blended in with the other groans and strains of the structure around him. Nothing tried to stop him.

After a long minute, Worf placed his hand on the housing of the reactor and assessed the material. He reached around the edges of the panel and pulled it partially away from the reactor housing. Then he flexed his upper arms and pulled the panel off with both hands. His breathing clouded the glass in front of his face.

The technology controlling the reactor was antiquated and alien, but there were obvious physical switches and indicator lights. He reached into a large pocket on the side of his suit and retrieved a small medical suture stick. He would have to attempt some minor surgery before he was discovered, and some outright butchery if matters became more urgent.

**:::**

"Tractor beam released," said Lyssa. The crowd in the ready room looked up or turned their individual attention to the announcement.

"We're free?" shouted Hogg. "Integrity checks then straight to impulse." He clicked his fingers.

Angelis slipped quickly into the conference chair that had the navigator's controls. "Just hit the power," he said to Lyssa in the chair beside him. "I'll get the computer to do the paperwork." He thumped a knuckle on the 'diagnostics' icon on his analytical displays.

"Ten percent impulse," said Lyssa to no-one in particular. "Easy does it." The gathered members of the lower deck crew stayed quiet.

Angelis watched the glow on the display encircle the graphic of the saucer then emit a satisfying chime. "Yes," he hissed. "Perfect hull integrity. Punch impulse up to fifty percent."

Lyssa nodded calmly. "Near-warp will be available at ninety-five percent impulse. In two minutes... Mark."

Hogg shook his head and stood up. "Cold jump, officer. Everything is switched on. All the calculations are banked. Do this." He bunched up his fists hanging at his sides.

Angelis leaned over to meet Lyssa's cool gaze. "That sounds like an order to the Helm." He smiled like a child at the funfair.

"Disintegration of the main hull and the nacelles is imminent," noted Lyssa.

On the smaller desk screen, they could all see a diagram of the random strictures of flexible tendrils lashing onto the repurposed main body of the _Chang_. Their ship was close to falling apart. "Impulse at twenty percent. Countdown to warp jump begins. Ten. Nine…"

**:::**

Chewbacca looked briefly at the schematic that showed the bucking of the _Chang _saucer as it prepared to skim away. He was still determined to ram into the station, but he would let the Starfleet crew escape before his attack. As he had already warned the Enterprise to stay clear, there was now only the matter of The Worf to consider. But The Worf was A Warrior. That was all the Wookiee needed to know.

He checked the critical level of the shuttle's impulse drive on the forward monitor, then saw thru the front viewport a burst of flashing lights emerging from the station. Fighter craft!

Chewbacca growled aloud with satisfaction. A fight in space was almost as good as a hand-to-hand fight if the enemy was distinct enough, and these three TIE fighters would be more than enough to satisfy him.

Their heading took them toward the fleeing saucer as it tore free from the neck of the _Chang's_ main body. But it was too late. Hot shards of metal and clouds of igniting gas gave the impression of flames and fire and Chewbacca knew the waves of pressure and gravity collapse would hit him and the other craft only seconds later. He grabbed hold of the arms of the pilot's chair and snarled with his eyes closed.

All the speakers in the shuttlecraft erupted into life. _"Escape is Futile!"_ they bellowed as the craft rolled and bounced in space. But when Chewbacca stole a look thru his heavy eyelids, he could see the flaming nacelle arms smashing into each other and the TIE fighters, and all the pieces arcing back into the giant hollow of the supercannon. The saucer slowly receded, glowing white.


End file.
